


Everything Is Fine

by StregataDalloStregatto



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Plus Size Inquisitor, Size Difference, plus size OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StregataDalloStregatto/pseuds/StregataDalloStregatto
Summary: Inquisitor Demetra Trevelyan can't sleep after an extended, Orlesian mission. A starred sky, a lovely lake, and Commander Cullen will help her relax.





	Everything Is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello, everybody! I’m alive, and I apologize for the hiatus. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. After four years of writing about my adored Demetra and our dashing Commander, life happened. I missed this fandom a great deal, but I needed time to recover (spiritually, let’s stay), rest a bit, and focus on my career. I hope you’re all doing great, and if you want to chat, you know where to find me, now that I’m around again!  
Hugs!

Demetra sauntered, her shoes dangling lazily in her hand.  
  
The grass kissed by the moonlight was pleasantly cold under her bare, sore feet, and the hem of her silk dress rustled gently against the lawn.  
A smirk escaped her lips at the thought that Vivienne was likely going to kill her. The Inquisitor ruining her dress, walking around barefoot and with her hair half - down wasn’t exactly the picture the mage wanted others to perceive. Demetra sighed heavily. She had been so offended when she first heard Orlesians snicker about the Free Marches nobility. 

_Provincial. Uncouth. Uninteresting._  
She had been bothered because those words had been repeated enough during every Trevelyan’s reunion. At the time, they were directed to her parents and all their children until Demetra’s mother had had enough and decided to simply skip the unpleasantness entirely. After that, they received the blame because they were shaming Trevelyans in front of all the Marches not sitting at their places during Satinalia’s banquets or weddings or birthdays. As if the Trevelyans really mattered outside Ostwick. As if Ostwick really mattered outside the Free Marches. And she, Demetra Sòphie Trevelyan, the fat and chatty youngest one, was the most worthless of all of them. Her sister had diplomacy, beauty, and grace. Her two brothers were brave, beautiful, and with a career on their own - at least until Gavin married an elven woman - but Demetra only had her brain. For the main branch of her family, it wasn’t that much to be proud of. Her parents told her to ignore them, but it wasn’t always easy.  
Now, as the Inquisitor, the Orlesians were doing more or less the same. In their eyes, the Inquisitor Trevelyan lacked too much to be respected. Yet, they still needed her. They knew that she knew they knew, and they despised her behind smiles and masks even more for that.  
Demetra shook her head. She came to the beautiful garden to get rid of unpleasant thoughts, not to pile up them. With the Maker’s help, tomorrow at sunrise the Inquisition delegation would leave the _chateaux _and return to Skyhold. 

Maker, she was tired. The exhaustion of chasing Red Templars or killing ferocious giants was nothing compared to the waltz she was forced to dance in Orlais. If she missed her shot, wars could start, and alliances get broken in a blink. Giants at least didn’t force her to smile until her mouth felt blocked.  
  
After another evening spent walking and dancing on heels that had no right to be that nice and that painful at the same time, Demetra was eager to put them in her wardrobe for a while.  
Her shoes were like this last mission: lovely to see, but horribly painful to have around for an extended amount of time.  
The garden around her was silent, and the estate on the background asleep. The marquess who hosted the Inquisition’s party in her chateaux had made sure they didn’t have a moment of quiet in all the weekend. A courtesy that, the noblewoman had made it pretty clear, she wanted to have repaid with the Inquisitor’s support in the imperial court. If the woman hadn’t signed a contract with the Inquisition providing soldiers, supplies, and a kind word with the rest of Orlesians noble houses, Demetra would have been pleased to tell the Marquess were she could put her demand of support for her little social climbing. Instead, Demetra had spent four days strolling around with the Marquess and her equally vain friends, letting Varric enchanting them with the tales of their adventures, and smiling and nodding until she had felt her head was going to fall in one of the fountains.   
She yawned quietly, too tired even for sleeping. 

  
She walked, unaware that she was a lovely vision, a sort of romantic spirit gracing the night with her presence, or so Varric would have probably told her if he wasn’t drunk asleep in his luxurious suite. 

Nobles were the ones who disconcerted her the most. Despite being herself a noble, her family was so atypical that she wasn’t prepared to challenge a world as nuanced and complicated like the Orlesian ones. Beyond sickening sweet smiles and glares as sharp as knives, they laid at her feet requests for help, for blessings, for an alliance against bandits or other people who had the disgrace to not being in their circle of so-called friendship. None of them seemed willing to consider that Corypheus was gathering his troops, sneaking around in the darkness, ready to bring ruin and desperation upon them all. She suspected that partially this was because the thought of the end of the world glooming over them was too terrifying to deal with. Much better turning the head in the other side, pretending that everything was fine, that Red Templars weren’t ransacking villages or Venatori summoning demons. With all the faith they proclaimed in the Maker and Andraste, they didn’t have that much hope in the Prophetess’ chosen one.  
They only saw a fat woman, jumped out from nowhere, and she could have understood that. But then they decided that their troubles were more important than anything else, that their pretense was more important than the reality of a world on the brink of extinction, and Demetra couldn’t forgive that.   
The Inquisitor walked a bit longer until she arrived at the little lake - a little bigger than a glorified swimming pool - that the Marquess has shown off to her that very afternoon.   
Demetra wanted to put her feet in the cold water, but she didn’t expect to find someone else there.  
”Demetra!” Cullen called, surprised, but not displeased, it seemed. He chuckled, rubbing his neck “I would have invited you to join me if I had known you didn’t lock yourself somewhere with Leliana and Josephine discussing this visit.”  
”Don’t you think I would ask my military advisor to join us?” she replied quietly, not wanting to break the silence around them.  
He shrugged, smiling gently “I have no purpose here, beyond making sure you’re safe and protected. This is Leliana and Josephine’s territory, after all. Leave me the battlefield. I’m fine with that.”  
They didn’t spend that much time together, in the past two days, both busy with their tasks, and with Cullen spending a lot of time patrolling around. In her generosity, Josephine had maneuvered to have Demetra and Cullen placed in two close bedrooms, insisting that he was her bodyguard. However, Demetra knew that her Ambassador was planning to use the inevitable gossip to the Inquisition’s advantage. Leliana hadn’t disagreed. It was the worst kept secret in Thedas anyway, she had shrugged, ignoring Cullen’s embarrassment during their last meeting in Skyhold.   
”But leave the furniture alone,” the Spymaster had commanded with a sly smirk.

  
Cullen swam near her, walking slowly when he found the point where he could touch the sand under the water. Despite having to be with him for quite a while, Demetra was always surprised by the intensity of her attraction towards him. She loved the way he laughed - really laughed - when he was amused, the wrinkle between his eyes, the way he frowned when thought that something was silly. She adored the way he hugged her, intense and unrelenting, how much he trusted her, the glint of pride in his eyes after her triumphant return from a mission. They got along together well, so well that sometimes she was scared to lose it, either due to lyrium, war, or he changing his mind. She fought valiantly towards these thoughts, knowing that they both wanted to be together and that the love they found was something worthy of fighting for, but sometimes she didn’t believe she had been so lucky to find him. When she had finally shared these thoughts with him, her surprise had been enormous hearing his admission that he thought he was the lucky one in their relationship. 

  
Cullens’ voice was gentle as always “What are you thinking?”  
“That my feet are sore and that I love you very much.”  
He blushed delighted. It was enchanting, really. Since their first time, they had been intimate uncountable times - and in many, many different locations than his or her bed. Yet, he, the man who once took his Inquisitor against a wall and that woke her up with his mouth between her thighs more than once, still blushed every time she voiced her feelings.   
“Come here, love,” he murmured, his honeyed eyes soft and his words darkly alluring. Any other time, she would protest that she wasn’t going to undress where anyone could surprise her, but this time was different. She wanted to feel him, skin against skin, having his lips pressed on the top of her head, and his arms sheltering her from the outer world for a while.  
Demetra needed him, and Cullen knew it.   
And he was waiting for her.   
He would always have. The thought alone made her heart pump faster and full of joy.  
She let her shoes fell on the grass with a gentle thud, and quietly blessed the simple corset of her ballgown. Letting the precious embroidered silk falling in the grass, she shredded her undergarments as well.

  
Cullen was staring at her, the water gently skimming around his trim waist. He was looking at her with equal love and desire, and when he motioned her to enter in the water, she didn’t hesitate any longer. She had always thought nobody would appreciate her body outside herself. She was glad the Maker had proved her to be wrong.   
“You’re beautiful,” Cullen murmured, holding her against his chest. Demetra chuckled. She hardly thought she was beautiful. Pretty, maybe. Tonight, she was wearing heavy makeup and all the beauty that money could buy thanks to expensive clothes and jewels in her hairstyle, but she wasn’t going to fool herself.   
Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry I’m not better with words.”  
She winced, looking at him, wanting to tell him that it wasn’t his fault if Orlais had left her overtired and sad. It was a place that always made her feel as if she was the youngest lady Trevelyan, back at Ostwick. All the love of her parents and siblings hadn’t been able to shelter her from disapproval and mockery. Ostwick had been hard, but in Orlais, it was even worse because she had felt alone.  
However, Demetra was aware that it was just her tired mind suggesting those considerations. She wasn’t alone for real. Tiptoeing, Demetra pressed her lips against his “I believe your sincerity, Cullen. I’m just… I don’t know? Overwhelmed?”  
“Orlais,” he nodded, kissing her nose, her cheeks, and her lips, making her laugh. He took his time, lingering against her skin, pressing and curling over her. Demetra sighed, relaxing in his embrace. It was a lovely moment. The water murmuring around them, the magnificent starred sky, the warmth of Cullen’s body. She could endure Orlais’ unpleasantness if it led to moments like this. They swam for a while, giggling like children when he playfully splashed her, and she returned him the favor. The water was pleasantly cold, but when Cullen realized that Demetra was shivering, he wrapped her in his arms. Weightless and content, she wrapped her legs around his waist.  
“I would like to give you a real holiday,” he murmured, rocking gently. She chuckled, pressing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart was beating, and an angry scar marked his skin “Save the intention for after I defeat Corypheus.”  
He nodded. She was grateful he didn’t voice his terror at the idea of her facing that monster again, but she noted how he held her tighter than a moment before.  
“Where would you bring me?” she asked, pushing away a wet curl from his forehead. Cullen’s answer was quick, “The South Reach if you don’t have other suggestions.”  
She looked at him, surprised, and he smiled, hesitant “I know it’s not a popular place, but I thought… after everything is over, if you want, that’s it, I would like to present you to my siblings. If they’re willing to speak to me, I mean.”  
“According to the letters Mia sends you, they’re more than willing.”  
“I haven’t been fair towards them,” he warned her, stiffening slightly under her touch, “I thought the money I sent while in Kirkwall was enough. That cutting out everything that could remind me… the Circle, and all that was before was the only way to survive.”  
“Look at me, Cullen.”  
He was ashamed by himself, and his torment was evident.   
“Cullen, I would be glad to come with you and visit your family. It would be an honor, actually. You own them an explanation, that’s true, but I think they got an idea about what happened. Maybe not the full extent, but I’m pretty sure they know, and they understand, love.”  
He was still unsure, still frightened facing the idea of having failed his own family.  
Demetra loved his sense of duty, but hate it when it blinded him towards the possibility that mistakes could be forgiven, if not repaired. He was harsh towards himself, harsher than anyone Demetra had ever known.   
“Come,” she said, pulling him gently “let’s go to bed. It’s late, and tomorrow I want us all to leave as soon as possible.”  
They dressed slowly, Cullen peppering her skin with a kiss here and there. She adored the intimacy of having him buttoning her dress and murmuring compliments.  
“You’re going to sleep with me tonight,” she declared quietly, while they walked hand in hand towards the house. He smiled, “I missed you.”  
She kissed his jaw and let him wrap her shoulders with his arm, locking their fingers togheter, echoing the sentiment. During a mission, they didn’t usually have a lot of time to be together. It wasn’t only about sex. They both missed sharing the goodnight kiss and greeting each other in the morning. Or having a moment to joke about something funny happened that day. Or reading before sleeping, her nested against him, his hands absently playing with her long braid. When Cullen slipped with her under the blankets, she hugged him from behind, kissing his nape. Cullen grabbed her hands and murmured a tired "Goodnight,” adhering against her body with a satisfied sigh. For once, he fell asleep sooner than her. Demetra stayed awake, listening to his regular breath.  
A moment before falling asleep, she smiled and snuggled closer to him.

  
Everything was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know what you think of this tiny thing!


End file.
